


From the Ashes of Destruction

by charlieboyyyyyy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Multi, Order 66 Aftermath (Star Wars), Order 66 Happened Differently (Star Wars), Sad and Happy, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlieboyyyyyy/pseuds/charlieboyyyyyy
Summary: On Utapau, Obi Wan Kenobi hears about Anakin Skywalker's involvement in reporting about Palpatine, and he rushes back to Coruscant to save him from himself. But there are bigger things to worry about than Anakin potentially falling to the Dark Side...
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 37
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Obi Wan panted, hoisting himself up from the ledge and tossing the blaster off to the side. His lightsaber fell at some point, not entirely sure when, but resorting to such a crude weapon felt almost undignified for someone like a Jedi.

The remains of General Grievous were certainly a sight to behold: more machine than man, he almost could've been mistaken for a fallen battle droid instead of a sentient being. While Obi Wan knew in theory that the war was coming to a close, with Dooku and Grievous being dead, and the rest of the Separatist army floundering without their direction, the reality of it was a lot different to face.

Like the clones, for example. Commander Cody would forever be a clone, sure, but what would become of him? Of all the clones? So when Cody tossed him his lightsaber that had fallen, Obi Wan couldn't help but focus on the changing galaxy, and how it must be just as weird for the Jedi generals as it was for the clones.

"You have a message from the Council, sir. They wish to speak with you."

"Thank you, Cody." Obi Wan nodded, taking in the surroundings in Utapau. If it wasn't for the fact that this was a war, and they weren't surrounded by tanks and battalions of soldiers, he could almost appreciate the simple beauty of the planet, something he hadn't done, couldn't focus on in a while.

There'd been a new development at the Temple, however, and this temporary feeling of peace and quiet were not permanent. 

"We've discovered the identity of the Sith Lord." While Obi Wan wasn't entirely _surprised_ at Palpatine being the Sith Lord, the fact that he'd been hiding under the noses of the Jedi Council, the fact that he made a special point to befriend Anakin, made Obi Wan's stomach churn. _I've got a bad feeling about this_ , he thought. "Skywalker has done his duty in informing the Council, but I fear his judgement is still clouded regarding the matter."

Obi Wan nodded and rubbed his beard in contemplation, sitting on this information for a moment. How could he explain that he needed to get back to his former padawan without seeming like he was overly attached? "I ought to come back. Perhaps I can assuage any fears he has on the matter."

"Go to Skywalker, you must," Yoda agreed. Perhaps it wasn't as hard to explain as Obi Wan had initially thought.

Before he'd even realized, he was on a ship headed for Coruscant. Commander Cody was in charge of the rest of the operation in Utapau, so he felt only a little bad about rushing back, but this seemed… urgent, for whatever reason. Like something would go terribly wrong if he couldn't get to Anakin in time.

When he arrived in the temple, he found Anakin sitting in the Jedi Council room, staring off in the window toward the direction of the Senate building. He sucked in air, rubbing his cheeks and turned to face Obi Wan.

Anakin looked like shit, like he hadn't eaten or slept in _days_ , his cheeks a ruddy red from crying. Worse was how he felt through the Force—scared and sad and angry and just so _alone_. Obi Wan couldn't remember him feeling like this since when he was a boy, when he cried about his mother, when he was homesick.

"Anakin…" he breathed. "You've done well here. I'm very proud of you."

Refusing to look Obi Wan in the eye, Anakin didn't respond, electing instead to sit in his Council chair and curl in on himself. The fear inside him was just so raw and loud, like it was screaming to get out but Anakin wouldn't let it free.

"Are you OK?" Obi Wan finally asked.

Still no eye contact, but no matter. "I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

"I—" Tears spilled down Anakin's cheeks as sobs wracked his body, and all Obi Wan could do is rush to him, kneeling down in front of him and grabbing his hands in comfort. "Obi Wan, he was my friend… I can't think of what they're going to do to him…"

"That's not all. I can tell…" Obi Wan sighed, staring off at the floor to his side. "You don't have to say anything, but you know you can trust me, right?"

Their eyes locked, and Anakin shook his head no, bowing his head in shame. "Master, you wouldn't understand."

Obi Wan laughed lightly, not at his dear friend crying in front of him but at the preposterous idea that there was some feeling so unusual that Obi Wan wouldn't understand. "Try me. I think you'll find I'm full of surprises."

Rubbing his cheeks again, the hint of a smile on his face, Anakin breathed in deep, slowly but surely letting air in and out. It didn't seem to calm him down much, but it did temporarily, at least. "Padmé's pregnant."

The knowledge of this hit Obi Wan like a ton of bricks. He knew in theory that Anakin had serious feelings for the senator, that he often behaved irrationally at the expense of others in favor of her safety—that this was a genuine attachment, one that he should've requested the assistance for from the Council a long time ago, but… It made Anakin happy. At least until that revelation—then it was back to the confusion and the fear and the anger. "I—Anakin, that's still not the thing that's bothering you."

"I keep having these dreams—"

"—Like your mother." Obi Wan nodded solemnly.

"She dies in childbirth. I-I saw it. And I don't know what I'd do without her, and the Chancellor promised—" Anakin's breathing became erratic, and the tears began flowing again, and he just laid his head in Obi Wan's hands. "He promised that he'd save her," he whispered.

This was all worse than Obi Wan had initially expected, so, so much worse. The Chancellor was a Sith Lord, Anakin had broken the Jedi Code, and the Chancellor had manipulated Anakin… "Anakin, Anakin, he lies for his own personal gain… The Chancellor has no desire to save Padme… only gain _you_ as an apprentice…"

"What?" Anakin looked up, eyes widened. "No, no, that couldn't be… He said he could keep her from dying, Master…"

"He's a _Sith Lord_. That's what they do."

Anakin shook his head fervently and, pushing Obi Wan aside, got up, starting to pace the room. Obi Wan had never seen him in such agony. "No, no, it's not just that. He said the Jedi were trying to take over."

He got up to face his former padawan, and his face fell as the gnawing feeling that Anakin was about to do something absolutely stupid grew as the man continued pacing. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"Given how the Jedi have acted as of late? I don't know."

It made sense, given what Anakin had been dealing with. Obi Wan faking his death, lying to Anakin. Ahsoka being accused of murder, getting kicked out of the Council without any consideration as to her guilt. Fives being executed, and the Council chalking it up to some great tragedy instead of something more serious. The ongoing war. The casualties. The famines, the destruction. It was all so much to deal with, especially at a young age. Anakin never got to be a kid, Obi Wan realized.

"Ignore the Jedi Council. Ignore what the Jedi have done. What has the _Chancellor_ done that made you trust him?"

Stopping his pacing, Anakin turned his head toward Obi Wan "He—he helped me. I trusted his advice. He'd never led me astray, and—and, he said the only reason he concealed being a Sith Lord was—was because he feared the Jedi would execute him." 

The things the Jedi had done certainly weren't helping with the matter. How many Sith, how many Separatists died by a Jedi's hand because the Jedi were convinced that the Separatists were the cause of discontent in the galaxy? Oh how wrong they were… "You understand why, though? Because the Sith seek only to grow in power, for their own personal gain."

"And the Jedi don't?" Anakin's eyes narrowed, a dark, fiery emotion growing within him. What had always been smoldering was beginning to grow, and Obi Wan feared for when it became a roaring fire, consuming all the good that was left inside.

"Would you really join the Sith because the Jedi Order is experiencing corruption?" Obi Wan asked, unsure if he wanted to know the true answer.

Anakin sat down, contemplating this question for what felt like ages, focusing his attention back on the Senate building. "I-I don't know. I have to go to him."

Obi Wan looked outside at the city skyline. The sun was setting, the dark night growing. _How fitting_ , he thought. "Anakin, listen to yourself."

"No, I have to go to him. The Council can't just execute him. It's not the Jedi way."

Perhaps Anakin would do the right thing. Perhaps he'd kill the Chancellor, as Obi Wan did all those years ago with Darth Maul—but did Obi Wan trust him? Could Anakin do the right thing?

It happened so fast, Obi Wan didn't even really know what he was doing. One minute, Anakin was pacing the Council Room floor, Obi Wan desperately trying to reason with him; the next, Anakin was racing out of the room, his robes waving behind him.

Obi Wan ran, as fast as he could, his muscles and lungs burning in exertion, following Anakin as best he could. "Somebody stop him!" Obi Wan yelled—and regretted it as soon as he did.

Snarling, Anakin stopped and pulled his lightsaber out, the blue blade extending, jumping to face Obi Wan. Pulling out his own saber, Obi Wan reacted to the attack, pushing Anakin off him, sending the man flying, sliding along the floors of the Temple on his feet, his hand slowing his fall.

Getting up, Anakin ran back toward Obi Wan, and their blades collided with a hiss, the sound of grunting echoing in the halls of the Temple. "Obi Wan!"

"Anakin, no!"

"Let me through!" Anakin yelled, his anger burning within, steadily growing.

It worried Obi Wan, how easily his friend could be convinced by someone as evil as the Sith—but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that Anakin was not a lost cause, that he could be saved still. "Anakin, he can't help you!"

"You don't know that!"

"I can help you! Me! Your friend!"

For a moment, Anakin stopped, panting, his face falling as he realized suddenly what was actually happening. He fell to his knees, and Obi Wan just extinguished his lightsaber to rush to his side. "Obi Wan, I—"

"No, it's quite alright. No need to apologize." Obi Wan put a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Anakin, I love you like a brother. I don't want you to be unhappy. It's why I never said anything about you and Padmé."

"But—"

"I'm convinced joining the Sith will only make things worse, will only make you more unhappy. Haven't you noticed that death and tragedy follows them wherever they go?"

Anakin didn't say anything, electing instead to collapse into Obi Wan's arms, crying just like he did when he was still a padawan. He was a ball of anxiety, the once smoldering flame that was his Force presence replaced suddenly by sparks of electricity. Obviously Obi Wan knew this war had been taking a toll on everyone; he just didn't expect Anakin to feel like he could only resort to joining the Sith in order to make things right.

"My thoughts keep telling me if I don't go to him, something terrible will happen."

"I know, I know. Let's wait to see the next course of action."

"Can I go see Padmé?"

It was hard not to just immediately say no. The Jedi in him told Obi Wan that it was a terrible idea, that seeing her might only make things worse—but his attachment to Anakin was just as strong as Anakin's was to Padmé, so he certainly could not blame him for wanting to see her. "Alright."

As soon as they left, a group of Clone troopers marched on the stairs of the Temple, a tense feeling in the Force, like something terrible was going to happen. Anakin's worried lip certainly wasn't helping, checking over his shoulder at his men robotically entering the Temple in rows. But Obi Wan kept flying, as fast as he could, toward Padmé's apartment. Whatever it was, whatever their plans were, certainly weren't good—but they couldn't worry about that at the moment.

"Why do I get the sense that I'm never going to see the Temple again?" Anakin asked, his voice hushed as though too loud and they'd be found out.

Shaking his head, Obi Wan sighed, unsure of how to even answer that question. It seemed ridiculous, the idea that they'd never see the Jedi Temple again—an institution that has stood for thousands of years. But then the Force screamed in agony, and Obi Wan had never felt such pain, such grief. Suddenly he understood Anakin's comment.

Little by little, the presence of Jedi in the galaxy vanished; what was once a bright star became a quieter dim light every second they drove. "Did you feel that?" Obi Wan asked.

Anakin nodded numbly. "We need to get to Padmé. I-I think my child will be Force sensitive. We can't let the Chancellor steal them away."

Obi Wan nodded, nearing the apartment, his lungs tight, and the aching feeling of sorrow getting harder and harder to ignore. "No, you're right. Perhaps my soft spot for you was by the Force's design, after all." He smiled weakly; his lips widening into anything resembling happy felt so wrong and inappropriate, but… it was Anakin. And Anakin was something, someone to smile about, even during times like these.

"Should we take her with us?"

"I don't know. It might be safer if we all left separately." The idea of leaving Anakin alone… was not something Obi Wan wanted to consider, but protecting him, keeping him safe—that was something he needed to let go of this feeling for. He landed, bracing himself for whatever difficulties lay ahead. "We should try contacting others, see if they know what to do."

"It feels like they're dying, Master."

Obi Wan sighed, grabbing his padawan's hand in comfort, just like when Anakin was a boy. "Let's just focus on Padmé for now, Anakin. One thing at a time."

For the past few months, occupied by the Outer Rim sieges, and then tracking down General Grievous, Obi Wan hadn't gotten to see Padmé, so when he and Anakin arrived at her apartment, he was surprised to see that, as Anakin had said, she was definitely pregnant. In theory he knew that to be true, but actually seeing the reality of it was hard to handle—that was Anakin's child, even further proof that Anakin had not obeyed the Jedi code.

It didn't seem to really matter anymore.

Anakin raced to her, embracing her as tightly as possible as she cried. Obi Wan glanced at the distant skyline—the Temple that they had just been in was on fire, the smoke billowing, barely visible with the soft glow of the city at night. "I was so worried," she whispered. "I—" She let go of the embrace, said something else, softer, quieter, too quiet for Obi Wan to pick up on.

"Padmé, he already knows."

Padmé raised an eyebrow, taking Obi Wan in for the first time in months. "He does?"

"It's nice to see you, Senator." Obi Wan smiled grimly.

She frowned, clearly unsure of how to proceed. "I take it you didn't just come here to punish Anakin?"

Obi Wan shook his head, a light laugh escaping his throat in spite of himself. But the situation sobered him up quickly, and his lips curved back into a frown. "No, I'm afraid much worse. We've discovered the identity of a Sith Lord—the Chancellor."

"Oh, Ani…" She brushed her thumb against his cheek, and he just gently grasped her arm, leaning into the gesture. "I know his counsel meant a lot to you."

"There's more," Anakin whispered, his voice hoarse. "I—he's trying to convince me to become his apprentice, using you as leverage."

Sitting down, Padmé's face paled, and she stared at the floor, unable to look either of them in the eye. Anakin was already a mess as it was, and this reaction certainly didn't help—Obi Wan could feel the anxiety radiating off his former padawan, the humming of a Force presence on edge palpable.

"Padmé, he's going to track Anakin down. I know this is all hard to hear, but we don't have time—I think we should try contacting anyone sympathetic to the Jedi."

"Bail," she said, firmly. "Bail Organa. He'll be able to help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin might not be falling to the dark side in this but you can't just almost become evil and not suffer a little bit you know?
> 
> Also! This is my first fic in YEARS and I'm so glad Star Wars was the thing that got me back into writing again
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin needs better coping strategies, and Obi Wan learns more about his padawan than ever before.

Though Anakin knew deep down that this was the best decision he could be making, it still didn't feel that way. Guilt and regret and grief and anger were still eating away at him, and every second was harder than the last to not just give in, to not just… join the Chancellor? Become a Sith Lord?

Growing up, ever since he heard about the Sith, ever since Qui Gonn's death, he'd always thought he was supposed to hate the Sith. And in theory, Anakin did, but the Jedi, led by corrupt Council members, who'd grown arrogant in their abilities, were pushing systems into submission to a corrupt Republic, led by a corrupt Senate… It was hard to not at least consider that maybe the Jedi weren't wholly correct after all.

Or maybe these Jedi weren't. The difference between those two was an important distinction—yet the lines between all Jedi being incorrect, and specific council members being incorrect were becoming increasingly blurier as the war raged on.

Then there was Padmé, and the baby, and his dreams, and the Council disrespecting him after all he'd done for them and for the Republic, and Ahsoka being kicked out, and leaving him  _ again _ , and, and… It was all so much. Too much.

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, not until he'd gotten Padmé, and Obi Wan, and himself to safety—because they weren't safe, not with a Sith Lord expecting an apprentice but not being delivered one, not while he ruled the galaxy, and the clones… Nowhere felt safe.

So he had his doubts about Bail Organa being able to do anything substantial to keep them safe, certainly not while he openly disagreed with the Chancellor. But Padmé insisted, and Padmé was usually right, and she was already dealing with so much, and he didn't want to make things worse, especially not while she was pregnant, and… Anakin plopped on a seat in Padmé's ship and buried his head in his hands.

They managed to reach the senator shortly after boarding Padmé's ship, the holographic image of him sighing in relief. "I'm glad you're all OK."

Padmé was the one to respond first, all the way up front in the cockpit. Anakin could only vaguely hear the conversation, his thoughts too loud in his head, the distance too far, her voice too quiet—until she spoke louder, more firmly. "Bail, we need your help."

"How many?"

Anakin peeked at her through his fingers—she hesitated, looking down just before looking back up. "Just three—me, Obi Wan here, and Anakin in the back of the ship."

"Alright, we can go someplace safe together. I was going to take this coming week off anyway—hopefully the Chancellor won't take note of it."

The Chancellor—the man who knew how to save Padmé, the man who claimed he was Anakin's friend, who foretold of Anakin's future greatness, who he shared secrets with. It was all a lie—Anakin knew that—but he couldn't help but let his fears about losing Padmé, his fears about losing everything he once held dear, his fears about forgoing peace and prosperity in the galaxy were eating him alive. And for what? What was all this pain and suffering even for?

It took forever and no time at all before they reached Senator Organa. The entire way there, Anakin felt like he was a corpse walking, like he wasn't himself, like he was outside himself. And he needed to push that down, for Padmé's sake, to stop Obi wan's worried glances, but it was just so loud.

So when they left the planet, Anakin just rested his head on her shoulder and stared at the floor until his body gave up and let him sleep. He dreamt of nothing for the first time in days, months, years, his mind quiet and blank, only darkness filling his subconscious. Perhaps it was appropriate, especially considering how close he was to…

Anakin awoke with a start at Padmé nudging him, the ship approaching a city surrounded by white crested mountains, where giant towers almost reached the tallest peaks—Alderaan. He rubbed his crusty eyes and wiped the snot that collected on his upper lip from crying for hours and hours on his robe sleeve, something he'd ordinarily find too undignified to do in front of her, but given all that had transpired, looking perfectly attractive for his wife was very low in priority for him.

She didn't look perfect either—still beautiful, but also very tired, her cheeks red, her hair messy and not intricately done up, and her face emotionless, looking at Anakin only to observe.

"Ani, we've got to get up," she whispered, gently, and he grabbed the hand she'd extended—at first, he thought for his benefit, but he then quickly realized she needed help getting up. So he got up and pulled her until she was standing. "Your child is making it very hard to do anything," she huffed.

" _ My _ child?" Despite it all, he couldn't help but smirk, something she gave an indignant look at. The prospect of his own baby, his own  _ family _ , one he'd built with Padmé, filled him with more joy than anything he'd felt in the past few days, a light, warm, unfamiliar feeling. "Correct me if I'm wrong, love, but it's  _ our _ child."

"It's  _ yours _ when it's annoying me."

The four of them—Anakin, Obi Wan, Padmé, and Bail—were quickly ushered inside the Organa residence, surrounded by royal guards. A woman wearing a fine dress, one that reminded Anakin of the intricate ensembles his wife loved to wear, hastened her way to Padmé, hugging her tightly.

"I feared the worst, Padmé, but then Bail told me you were alright. I was so relieved," she said, before turning her attention to the men in the room she didn't recognize.

"This is my wife, Breha. Breha, this is Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker," Bail said, gesturing toward them. Anakin felt raw and exposed as the woman, Breha, analyzed him, taking in every little feature as if she was committing it to memory.

"Anakin is my husband," Padmé added, something that drew a raised eyebrow from Obi Wan but no further comment.

"Yes, the man you spoke so much about but wouldn't tell me his name! I understand now." She nodded, taking Padmé away to another room. Before Anakin could protest, Obi Wan put a hand in front of his chest, so he just made his way over to the seating area instead.

He looked around, scanning every couch, every table, every column. Not much of the design of the room was excessively different from that of Coruscant; in fact, Anakin was sure the inspiration for Coruscant's political spheres drew their inspiration from Alderaan architecture, if he remembered his history correctly.

Looking at every detail made it easier to calm down, made it easier to focus, made it feel less like his mind was racing, grounded him. So he counted the tassels on the pillows, and he made inventory of the columns in the room, if that's what it took to get him to relax.

"Padmé's already been filled in on all this, which is why I asked Breha to take her to settle in," Bail explained, pulling out a pitcher of water, two glasses offered to Anakin and Obi Wan.

Anakin didn't even realize how dry his throat was, how little water he'd drank—how little food he'd eaten, for that matter. So he gulped down the glass; not the politest of behavior but civility didn't seem to matter for the moment.

Obi Wan, by contrast, stayed standing, taking sips cautiously, like he was worried the water was poisoned or something. "I don't know how long we can remain in Alderaan. I expect this and Naboo will be the first places the Chancellor will look if he searches for Anakin."

Bail nodded, taking a seat on the couch across from Anakin. "No, I agree. I'm afraid the first couple years are going to be rough until the Chancellor—Emperor admits he's lost on that front. I don't have any specifics for you, but moving from planet to planet might be for the best for all three of you."

"What about the baby?" Anakin asked. "I— a life like that isn't good for raising a baby."

"Breha and I would be happy to take care of your child until it's safe to return." Bail stared down at his glass, clearly worried about Anakin's reaction.

It wasn't completely unwarranted, though. Anakin's anger flared at the idea of some other man raising his child, and he frowned, unable to look the other two in the eye. It felt wrong to be angry, to feel like he was being robbed of the experiencing early fatherhood, like everything was so unfair. That's what almost made him Fall the first time, and that certainly wouldn't be the only temptation he'd have to face. There'd be more openings to be seduced by the Dark Side of the Force.

"Anakin, I sense you're angry about this." Obi Wan put his glass down, freeing his hands to stroke his beard, the worried looks returning.

"It's  _ my _ baby." He scowled. "I know this is childish—I know it might be best, but I've never had a family, a real family, not in a long time, and…" Anakin sighed, once more curling in on himself. "I was  _ so _ excited to be a father. It was the only thing that I had to look forward to in all this—it's just not fair."

"You're being the best father you can by giving them a better environment than you can provide," Obi Wan pointed out.

"How about we discuss specifics later? I'm sure you're all very tired. It might do to rest before getting into how we can keep you all safe and deal with the Emperor." Bail sighed, before getting up to take a seat next to Anakin, resting a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch at the touch. "If that is what happens, I want you to know I'm not trying to replace you as a father. I just care about Padmé, and I want to be able to help the two of you in whatever way I can."

Anakin nodded, and the flames subsided, if only temporarily. He loosened his muscles, unclenched his jaw, sat up straight, all in the hopes that would release excess nerves, excess anger.

Bail led them to their rooms, before asking if either of them were hungry, to which Anakin replied a hard,  _ No _ , and Obi Wan interrupted, saying that the three of them would appreciate a meal.  _ Right, Padmé needed to eat _ , Anakin thought.

The maze of hallways was hard to navigate at first, but eventually he made his way to the room Padmé and Breha were in, discussing some conversation that died as soon as he entered the room.

"Hungry?" Anakin asked.

Padmé frowned and nodded hesitantly, like she wasn't sure of herself, like she was worried she would be imposing. Breha assuaged her by saying they'd been meaning to get rid of some food that Bail had been gifted that he was unfortunately allergic to, so the three of them headed to the dining room.

It was the best meal Anakin had in his life, or maybe just the first one he'd eaten in a while. He couldn't remember the last meal he'd eaten, and certainly not the last meal he'd eaten that weren't just ration bars.

That night, Padmé curled up against him on the bed, clearly trying to mask her crying by breathing deeply, but he noticed anyway, the way his chest grew wet with tears. And her crying just made him cry, and then they looked at each other, happy that the other was still alive, but so worried about the future, about what was happening around them, about each other.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Ani, I—I'm sorry." She buried her head in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"You did nothing wrong," he said into her ear.

"I didn't realize you were suffering so much."

"It's not like you can read minds."

Padmé broke from their embrace, looking him directly in the eye, and cupped his cheeks. "I'm so worried about everything. The Republic being destroyed, the Jedi being killed, the baby—" She stopped, a sob escaping her throat and preventing her from speaking, and he just hugged her again, hoping that she'd understand what he meant.

It felt like hours before they managed to calm themselves down enough to rest. And it certainly wasn't a restful sleep—not that any sleeping Anakin had ever done in his life was restful. But it was nice to just hold Padmé in his arms, to not have to worry about being caught, even if the circumstances surrounding that weren't the greatest.

Maybe everything would be alright after all. Maybe he'd been overreacting, and everything was not a big deal, and he'd get to have his family and be a Jedi. Even with the Jedi Order being destroyed as he helplessly watched, even if his family might be torn apart, even if the world he'd held so dear might be crumbling around him, things might turn out alright. He'd spent the past few hours suppressing every emotion, doing everything he could to tame the flame that had been lit inside him, years ago—but this feeling of potential hope did more for him than trying to wrangle his emotions into submission.

It was the first night he'd felt a semblance of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Skywalker is an angry asshole to everyone except his wife and I refuse to write him any other way so let's just ignore the Mustafar scenes and like any dumb Clovis jealousy scenes
> 
> ANYWAY I love writing instead of preparing for midterms what a joy. Unsure on a specific update schedule, since I have Things going on but hopefully pretty frequently. Thanks for reading regardless :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Order 66, Ahsoka Tano and Rex are on the run.

Ahsoka Tano had been legally dead for less than twenty-four hours, and she'd already missed the life she used to have. Sure, the life she used to have was one novel and strange to her, but at least it was more familiar than an oppressive regime, than a Sith Emperor, than not knowing if the people she loved were dead or alive.

At least she had Rex. She didn't know how she could've done it without him, with him rubbing her shoulders reassuringly, with him cracking jokes to ease the tension, with him trying on the goofiest clothes to use as disguises.

"What do you think of this, Commander?" he asked, the wig he donned constructed of highly intricate braids that rivaled Senator Amidala.

She wanted to laugh—she did—but reality reared its ugly head, and she looked around her, cautiously, at others shopping. No one's heads perked up at the mention of a commander, but she didn't trust it still. "Rex… us… I told you," she hissed.

"Right, sorry. Ashla."

They seemed like terrible fake names—Rexus and Ashla. But they were easy to remember, since they were so close to their actual names, and the likelihood of either one of them slipping up was smaller. Ahsoka found herself staring at the rack of clothing, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb along the strap of her satchel—Rex elbowed her, pulling her out of her own head.

"Do you think our, uh, mutual friends made it?" Rex sat down on the nearest surface, looking up to her. He folded his fingers together like he was awaiting a good answer, but even he knew the likelihood of that was small, the way he fidgeted in his seat.

She hesitated, frowning, before deciding on: "Some of them."

The Jedi weren't completely dead; Ahsoka could feel them. But they were more scattered about the galaxy, more dim and lifeless than she ever remembered feeling in her whole life.

That's the thing that shocked her the most about the whole ordeal—Ahsoka hadn't expected pain to come from the  _ Force _ . She'd felt her fair share of suffering through the Force, by other people, but never the Force itself. And oh, how the Force ached and bled with sorrow and grief.

There was something out there, though, something positive, that she could also sense. The tiniest glimmer of hope, a feeling she'd latched onto and not let go of since their command ship crashed.

Her thoughts turned to Anakin, though, as they always did, especially now. How he had felt just yesterday—all the pain, all the confusion. He was upset about something, before the Force became overwhelmed by fear and death, but of what Ahsoka couldn't be sure. Something terrible must've happened on Coruscant, something she feared she'd never know the answer to.

The hat Rex wore into the diner they'd entered didn't look good, but it covered most of his distinguishable facial features, his shaved head, his notable eyebrows. As much as he moped and complained about it when they first got it, at least he'd be less recognizable.

The diner itself was sparsely populated, most of the patrons lazily scrolling through the news, or watching the HoloNet, or absent-mindedly picking at their food. A real sleepy establishment, perfect for two people going undetected.

"I'm starving," Rex noted, doing his worst attempt at a Coruscanti accent as his eyes scanned the menu, fixated on the overwhelming options.

Ahsoka smirked, a light tilt of her lips to indicate her amusement. "You sound ridiculous."

"Look, I feel like my accent is too noticeable. Who else talks like this?"

"The—your father?" She wasn't entirely sure how to describe Jango Fett's relationship with all the clones, especially not without indicating that he was a clone, out loud for all in the diner to hear.

Rex rolled his eyes, before deciding on something, putting the menu down. "Not my dad."

"Whatever."

They got their food shortly after, Rex inhaling his, while Ahsoka barely managed to get a few bites in. It definitely beat ration bars, but the feeling of food entering her mouth felt… strange. Like the concept of chewing was suddenly foreign to her. 

Ahsoka instead turned her attention to the patrons around her, all mesmerized by something happening on the HoloNet. Rex clearly noticed, too, and the two of them glanced up at what everyone was staring at.

It was the Chancellor— _ Emperor _ , she remembered. His voice deeper, more strained, he was raving about the Jedi, about how they were trying to take over, about how they orchestrated the entire Clone Wars for their own personal gain, but he was selflessly able to stop them.

"The Jedi Order is no more. No longer will the galaxy bend their will to that of an archaic religion. The Empire will hunt down any survivors and make sure they are brought to justice," the Emperor announced, clearly in the Senate room, as the HoloNet cut from him to other members of the Senate.

Ahsoka bowed her head down, the words cutting into her like knives. She wasn't even a Jedi anymore, but he was still referring to her friends, to her  _ family _ . Like they were criminals. Like they deserved to be punished.

A familiar face was behind him, though, one shrouded by a cloak. Ahsoka almost didn't recognize him, but how could she forget a face like that after what she'd faced on Mandalore, on the command ship—it was Maul.

How he returned to his master's good graces, Ahsoka couldn't figure out in the slightest, but he was there, playing his part, presumably biding his time until his revenge could be complete.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd returned to Coruscant, instead of Mandalore or somewhere else that didn't deserve to be tainted by his or the Emperor's meddling.

Rex cleared his throat, going for a sip of the water before him. "Did you see that?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Crazy stuff," was all he said, and then they were silent for the rest of their meal.

The silence continued, even after they'd gotten a room at a hotel nearby, and Ahsoka and Rex just climbed into bed, staring at each other.

"I can't believe we're alive," she whispered, finally.

"I can't believe all my brothers are dead," Rex countered.

"Not all of them."

"Yeah, not all of them."

Seconds, minutes, hours passed, and suddenly she wasn't in the hotel room. She wasn't sure if she'd forgotten where she was, or if she'd just fallen asleep, and this was all a dream. It didn't seem real, but a man stood before her, backlit by a glowing red. It was Anakin, a man who  _ did _ feel real. "We need not be adversaries," he said, his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"I thought I knew who you were, but it's impossible. My master could never be as vile as you," she'd shouted, the sound echoing throughout the large room. There was a fury she'd never known, fueling her, keeping her going, but also a great sadness.

Anakin smirked, a vile, malicious face, like he enjoyed her pain. "Anakin Skywalker was weak. I destroyed him."

Ahsoka hesitated, closing her eyes as a wave of grief washed over her. Opening them once more, she noticed the yellow in his eyes, the arrogance, the hatred. "Then I will avenge his death."

He extended his lightsaber, a familiar shade of blue despite the reality suggesting otherwise. "Revenge is not the Jedi way." He was toying with her, trying to build her fury, trying to get her to lash out in anger.

It worked. "I'm no Jedi," she snarled, white blades extending from the hilt of her lightsabers.

She ran forward, jumping to meet him, their blades colliding with a buzz of energy—and then she woke up. She was still in the hotel room, Anakin nowhere to be found. Rex was still sleeping soundly next to her.

The sound of the tiny city coming to life echoed outside, of transporters whizzing down the street, of men chatting, of people working on the building across the street. She groaned, rolling out of bed as the morning light filtered in through the curtains.

It was a weird dream, one that she didn't quite know how to comprehend. It wasn't a prophetic dream; those felt different and, more importantly, real. This one was otherworldly, off base from reality—that wasn't the Anakin she knew, and she wasn't the person she knew herself to be.

It was a confusing mix of imagery and dialogue, too. His eyes were yellow, bloodshot like those of the Sith, tainted by the impurity of the Dark Side, but his blade remained blue. The room was only illuminated by red, a dark, angry color, and the way they talked made it seem like she didn't physically recognize him, like she couldn't recognize him, even if she tried—despite the fact that when she woke up, she knew it was him.

Ordinarily, she'd seek the advice from Yoda, or Anakin, or Obi Wan, but she wasn't even sure if any of them were alive, let alone when she'd see them next. Instead, she splashed her face with cold water, hoping to rid herself of the nightmare entirely, to wake her up.

It was time to get a job, time to get an apartment, time to pay rent. Time to forget the Jedi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes that is a Star Wars Rebels reference just to make Ahsoka sad why do you ask


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Padme discuss the future, and the twins make their first appearance...

Padmé sighed, waking up to one of Anakin's nightmares again. He'd always had them, but they'd been getting worse and worse each passing day, especially recently. 

Every time, he thrashed in his sleep, mumbling to himself, before he finally shot out of bed, sweat dripping down his entire body, panting. And every time, he'd turn to her, apologetic for waking her up, before crying in her arms about how he wished he could save her.

It really put a damper on any excitement she could possibly have about pregnancy, since he repeatedly told her she was going to die in a month or two. She'd always wanted kids, always wanted a family, and now…

Now she wasn't sure what they were. What they would be.

Bail had made the suggestion, apparently, that he could take care of the baby until it was safe, while they laid low for a couple years, an idea that infuriated her to no end, just as much as Anakin.  _ She _ was carrying the baby;  _ she _ was its mother. As much as she loved Bail and Breha, she couldn't imagine someone taking over parental responsibilities for her child unless she were dead.

Anakin woke this time, but it was a different nightmare altogether—not of her dying in childbirth.

"It was Ahsoka," he breathed, shock on his face, his mouth gaping, as he turned to look at her.

"Oh?"

He laughed uncomfortably. "Trust me, I'm just as shocked as you are that I didn't dream about you."

"Not all dreams about me are bad, though, right?" she asked, taking his hand.

Anakin grinned at her fondly, pressing his lips to her hand. "No, milady."

She giggled in spite of herself, sighing as she remembered the times early in their relationship when they'd tease and flirt with abandon. "Tell me about Ahsoka, though."

"I don't know." Anakin shrugged, looking down as if the bed sheet contained the answers. "It was dark, weird. I wasn't sure the exact context—it kinda started in the middle of things. But she was threatening to kill me."

Padmé tried not to laugh, but the idea sounded so preposterous. "Well, that doesn't sound like Ahsoka."

"No…" His voice trailed off, absorbed in his own thoughts.

All of a sudden, she felt a movement inside her, kicking against her belly— though Anakin's insistence that she'd die certainly put a damper on her impending motherhood, she wouldn't let it impede on her joy at feeling her baby move around inside her, safe and tucked away from the scary world.

"Ani, do you wanna feel the baby?" she asked.

The widest smile broke out on his face: Padmé was certain this was the first time she'd seen him smile since she told him she was pregnant. "Is she moving in there?"

"She?" She raised an eyebrow. "I think it's going to be a boy."

"Yes, well, I'm a Jedi, so." He laughed as she guided his hand to her stomach, a look of amusement replaced by awe and wonder. "Wow. I—this is incredible. I still can't believe we're going to have a baby."

"You're going to be a great father," Padmé said assuredly. She knew the age gap between them meant that sometimes she'd be ready for adult conversations, situations like becoming a parent, where Anakin wasn't. She remembered he wasn't even sure if they should get married, after all, a big adult responsibility.

"Ani," she remembered saying, "it's alright if you don't want to."

"No, I—Padmé, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he had replied.

But Anakin today didn't seem discouraged by the concept of fatherhood, by the concept of a big, adult responsibility, but instead by something else entirely—"I worry I won't get to be there as much as I'd like."

"I disagree with Bail. We can still raise the baby ourselves."

"So we're just gonna lug a baby around with us everywhere?"

"It'll certainly make you  _ not _ look like a Jedi."

A lot of heavy conversations so early in the morning. They decided to table the baby discussion, instead hoping to get some needed sleep before further plans regarding the future were discussed.

When she awoke again, Anakin was gone, and Padmé was left to drag herself out of bed, making herself look presentable enough to join the breakfast conversation.

Anakin ate some bread with fruit preserve, tearing it apart, and eating it piece by piece. Upon noticing her, he got up immediately to help prepare her a plate of food (she'd never admit it, but she rather liked being waited on by her husband). Both he and Obi Wan looked worse for wear, the bags under both their eyes more noticeable now that it wasn't under the darkness of Coruscant at night.

After eating one or two bites, something wet trickled between her legs, and a sudden pain in her stomach indicated only one thing—she was in labor. So today she was going to die, according to Anakin. And she didn't even get to finish eating breakfast. How inconvenient.

Padmé was lucky she'd been experiencing pre-labor pains all week, or else she'd be totally caught off guard by the intensity of it. In fact, she was so worried it was going to happen while Anakin was still in the Outer Rim, worried that he'd be surprised with a baby upon returning back to Coruscant—be thrust into fatherhood without warning—a memory that seemed miles away at that point.

But Anakin was still perceptive—too perceptive—and noticed her breathing through a contraction. "Are you alright?"

She whined as quietly as she could while it finished, the worst over for a little bit. The reprieve she felt wouldn't last; she knew that. "Yes," she lied.

Obi Wan sighed, turning his attention toward her. "Padmé, if you need to go to a hospital…"

"No, not yet. Just finish your breakfast," she insisted.

Anakin's eyes widened with fear; she knew even without the Force that he was not handling this situation well. "I—you—no, we need to go to a hospital."

Just then, Breha joined their company, rushing to Padmé's side as she noticed the strange intensity palpable in the air. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded. "Just labor."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again, as another bout of pain began, more confident. "Pretty sure."

It took some convincing, but they managed to force her in a speeder to get to the nearest hospital. Anakin was going to drive, but then Obi Wan insisted that he was in no state to be flying, offering to do it in his place.

The helplessness was the worst feeling. This wasn't something she could walk into with a blaster or her sharp wits. She wasn't in control of her body, of her emotions; all of it was being done  _ to _ her.

It was definitely hours but how many she couldn't say. Anakin was a nervous wreck the whole time, and though she couldn't hear any of it, she saw him argue with Obi Wan, the muffled sound of shouting dampened by the glass wall.

He ultimately resigned himself to sitting on a chair, his head in his hands, his eyes shut tight, like he was bracing for impact. Obi Wan sat down next to him, more gently, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Padmé felt silly that even during a time like this she was focussing on her husband. After all, she was supposed to die soon—something that wasn't funny ( _ but wasn't it? _ ).

The twins— twins! Padmé couldn't believe it. She told the medical droid to only tell her if the baby was healthy but not anything else, but she didn't realize it'd neglect to tell her about twins. Regardless, they arrived shortly after, one boy, one girl. Maybe she and Anakin were both right after all.

No death, though. No consciousness fading away. The medical droid and doctor on duty both said she had a clean bill of health, and there was nothing to worry about—Anakin's prophetic dreams didn't come true, then.

It was strange—after all they'd endured, something happy finally happening didn't feel well-deserved. It felt misplaced, but maybe that was just the looming threat of the Emperor, and the Sith, and Anakin's near Fall to the Dark Side, and every other terrible thing, louder than it ought to be.

For now, though, she had her babies, and they were healthy, and Anakin hadn't killed anyone over it. Yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Padmé have to decide what to do with Luke and Leia.

Anakin's head was in his hands, his muscles tense, tears rolling down his cheeks—he'd never been so afraid in his life. Afraid for Padmé, afraid for his child—children, he remembered. It was twins, a surprise to even Padmé. But then he heard the wailing screams of a newborn, and suddenly he had a son—suddenly he was a father.

Obi Wan put his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You doing OK?"

Anakin nodded. "I've been worse."

"Did you decide on names?"

"Luke, if it's a boy. Leia, if it's a girl." He smiled, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I have no idea what we'll do if it's two boys."

"Luke One and Luke Two." Obi Wan snorted, and they just laughed and laughed and laughed. It was easy to slip back into their old ways, into their banter of battle, into a time when things were still complicated but less so. "Luke One's got lungs."

The anxiety Anakin had been feeling surrounding the birth of his child—children—had nearly shrouded what really ought to have been a happy moment, but it all dissipated, at least temporarily, with Obi Wan cracking jokes.

Another cry, different, distinct. For a moment Anakin worried it was Padmé, but then it sounded more and more like a newborn, and he realized the second baby was born, and he had two children, and Padmé was laughing with delight at the sight of them.

Hesitantly, Anakin stood up, pressing his non-metal hand to the glass, and Obi Wan followed, reassuring him the way through the door before looking down at the two of them, wriggling in their bassinets.

"Leia," he whispered, letting her tiny hand grab his finger tightly. He turned back to Obi Wan, who gave him a wet smile, a stray tear rolling down his cheeks here and there. "Softie," Anakin teased, and Obi Wan just shook his head indignantly.

Padmé was asleep by the time Anakin turned to her, but the medical droid assured him that she was just asleep, and it wasn't a bad sign at all—that most new mothers are tired.

They still declared her dead, anyway. Bail told the attendant on hand to write over the memory of the droid so that it thought Padmé had died, another reassurance that the Empire couldn't follow them.

Bringing the babies back to Senator Organa's place was the easy part. Deciding what they needed to do with them—that was hard.

Of course, at the time, Anakin and Padmé insisting that they could care for a baby on the run was because they thought there was only one. But now there were two, and things were more complicated, and what if they needed to hide somewhere? Would a crying baby alert authorities to their presence?

Only after seeing his children did Anakin realize what he had to do.

"I think they should be separated," he suggested, to Padmé's shock and horror.

She cradled Luke closer to her, her eye on Leia in his arms. "What?"

"They're already so strong in the Force, and they're barely even a day old. I worry the Emperor will sense their presence," he explained, looking down at his daughter sleeping soundly, her eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar.

Knowing in theory that you're an all-powerful Force wielder—the Chosen One—was one thing, but realizing it was heritable… Luke and Leia were like two brightly shining stars that outshone the entire galaxy; every single living being paled in comparison. For a moment Anakin thought he might be biased because they were  _ his _ , but then Obi Wan nodded in agreement.

"No, Anakin is right." A weird mix of pride and concern on Obi Wan's face juxtaposed any determination in his voice. This was an unconfident agreement, one that, Obi Wan later explained, was due to him not knowing if it was truly the course to take, or if he was needlessly separating a family.

"Ani, that means we won't see each other."

"No, I—" He sighed, staring at the floor in place of anyone, even the infant in his arms, in the eye. "Padmé, I don't think I should be near them."

One Force sensitive person was already bad enough, already noticeable enough. Maybe eventually, Luke and Leia could squash that part of them, and they'd be safe enough to know their father, but…

"What are you saying?"

"I think we need to give them to other people. At least for now." He turned his attention to Breha, who nodded in understanding.

"Bail and I can take the girl. We have always wanted to adopt a baby girl."

The words hurt less now, for some reason. Any feelings of undeservedness of fatherhood, of doubt over his abilities to parent suddenly vanished, and in their place, nothing but a desire to protect them, no matter what. "What of Luke?"

"To his family, on Tatooine." This voice was new, older, hoarser. Bail Organa entered the room, and behind him, Master Yoda.

"I'm sorry I missed all the excitement," Bail said, "but I was rescuing an old friend."

Obi Wan sighed in relief. "Master Yoda, I'm so glad you made it."

Every new addition to the survivors made Anakin feel mildly better about the fate of the galaxy, especially someone as wise and talented in the Force as Master Yoda—even if he was on the Council, and even if he did get on Anakin's nerves. But that was before, and the simple luxury of getting excessively annoyed with the behavior of someone who mostly aligned with his values was something he could no longer afford.

Padmé was all but despondent when they left Alderaan and set course for Tatooine. It was something Anakin was not used to seeing in her, someone he'd always regarded as strong and brave, but he supposed she had just given birth, and she did have to give up two babies, a family she'd wanted. He couldn't entirely blame her; he himself was a crying mess during their goodbyes to Leia, to Bail and Breha.

Departing from Luke was harder somehow. Maybe it was because with Leia, at least Anakin still had Luke to hold onto, but this was both of them, gone from his life.

Owen Lars, surprisingly, took Luke in without question, before Anakin even had to go on a spiel about how it was for the child's own safety, about how Anakin was wanted by the new administration. "Beru and I will take care of him."

"I—thank you."

"It's the least I could do, after what happened with your mother." He took Luke into his arms, looking around for his wife, but she was nowhere to be found.

Anakin bristled at that comment, the painful memory of his mother dying in his arms rattled in his skull, of his brief taste at the Dark Side. "She didn't die by your hand."

"I know, but I still feel like I owe it to you to keep your family safe."

Anakin and Padmé ended up on a planet in the Outer Rim, a planet called Lothal, with Obi Wan staying behind on Tatooine to ensure Luke's safety. They booked a hotel room there, and Padmé just cried and cried and cried.

The next day, they both looked for jobs, Padmé as a waitress at the local diner (fitting, Anakin thought, for someone with diplomacy skills), and Anakin, hopefully, as a mechanic.

The first shop he entered insisted they weren't hiring, but the second had promise, and the owner looked Anakin up and down, an Ugnaught with a strong brow and fearsome presence despite his stature.

"You ever build something?"

Anakin pulled off the glove on his right hand, revealing the metal arm. "This. Oh, and a protocol droid, but I don't have him on me. I've worked on ships a ton, too."

"You'll do. I've got another who should come by tomorrow, been on board only a day or two. Today's her day off, but tomorrow, I'll get her to show you the ropes."

It was easy to bury himself in work, to ignore the feeling of being separated from his family. He came home with credits in his pocket, sweaty and grimy, and Padmé groaned when he grabbed her from behind, kissing her softly on the cheek.

"Ani, you're filthy. Take a shower."

"Mm, you could take a shower with me."

She sighed, turning to face him, the bags under her eyes noticeably bigger since that morning. "Not in the mood for any of that for a very, very long time."

"You mean I can't just spend time with my wife, naked in the shower?" He cracked a smile, and she tried to suppress hers but failed, and Anakin counted that as a win, even if he didn't get what he wanted.

Work the next day was like any other, like the quiet moments he had in the Temple. Tinkering and fixing things used to be the only things that quieted his mind, that calmed him down, and he was good at it. In fact, he was so engrossed that he hardly noticed someone standing before him, at least until they dropped their things and whispered, "Anakin?"

He looked up, hesitantly, almost worried that he'd been found, and the Emperor would torture him or the ones he loved until he agreed to join him, agreed to join the Dark Side. But it was a Togruta, one with familiar markings, one that he'd grown to know for years—it was Ahsoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm starting to realize this is a lot sadder than i initially intended to write when i started but lmao it's FINE cause at least no one's dead yet


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex runs into a familiar face when he's making a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: suicide mention
> 
> It's like super brief and ONLY a mention toward the end of the chapter, but I thought I'd give a heads up.

Rex hadn't told Ahsoka yet, not after everything they'd been through, but he was going to leave Lothal, find his brothers.

Maybe they could remove the chips. Maybe they could remove the ID cards in their wrist. Maybe they could finally be  _ people _ and not clones. It was a pipedream, but one that he'd been thinking about since he and Ahsoka boarded the ship in Mandalore with Maul in tow, a dream that had been temporarily cut short by The Order.

It was why he hadn't found a job yet, why he insisted Ahsoka put her name on the lease to the apartment and not his.

He'd almost considered leaving before she got back from work— no teary goodbyes, no convincing to stay. He'd managed to convince himself to take out a bag of his things (a very short list), but by then, she swung open the door, panting as she pushed someone else in the room.

"Skywalker?" Rex hardly recognized the man— he buzzed his hair short, and he seemed way more tired, resigned than gearing for a fight, like how he was before. But it was still him.

"Rex," Anakin breathed, almost deliriously happy. "I— Ahsoka, I can't believe you're both here."

"Isn't it great?" Ahsoka squealed with excitement. "Remember, Rex, I wasn't sure if he was dead or not—but he's not!"

It was almost like she was a child again, fourteen and new to war, new to commanding, new to being a padawan. Rex supposed she still was a child, but less so— more mature, more focussed, less driven by emotion. But that didn't mean all emotion was driven from her fully, and seeing Anakin again was just proof of that.

"I—" Rex sighed, hesitant knowing his plans. Perhaps another day, one more won't completely ruin his plans.  _ You've been saying that for days now _ , he thought but quickly ignored. "It's good to see you, sir."

Anakin rolled his eyes, a hint of mischief in the grin that grew. "C'mon, Rex, I think we can dispense with the pleasantries."

"Anakin," he corrected himself.

Pulling the two of them to the living room, Ahsoka insisted that they all caught up with each other, and she rambled about her day and their journey to the planet, ignoring all the hard bits, all the fear and confusion. They lost a lot of men that day, and she didn't acknowledge them—it was just too hard, Rex supposed, a sentiment he could understand.

"I, uh, have some news to share." Anakin laughed, almost uncomfortable, unsure. "I'm a father now? I guess?"

Ahsoka's jaw dropped, her eyes widened. "Skyguy, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" He said defensively. "Just—they're very cute. And I miss them. So I thought I'd bring it up."

"They?" Rex raised an eyebrow.

"Luke and Leia," he supplied. Presumably twins, since the likelihood that Anakin had children with anyone other than Padmé was very slim, and it'd only been a few days since they last saw each other, and Anakin certainly wasn't a father, then.

"Where are they? I wanna see them."

"I—" His face fell, and the first time since they'd been reunited, Anakin looked genuinely sad. "I shouldn't tell you. I'm sorry. They—I'm worried the Emperor's trying to track me down, track them down. So."

To make up for not being able to see the twins, he brought them to Padmé, a welcome replacement, who was so unbelievably overjoyed to see Ahsoka, she held her tight and didn't let go. Ahsoka seemed to be doing better than she had all week, ever since that day. Maybe, just maybe, if Rex left that night, she wouldn't notice. She would understand, and she'd still have people, and she wouldn't feel completely abandoned.

Except he forgot Ahsoka Tano was a Jedi, and you can't exactly lie to a Jedi or sneak away, so he made it halfway through the door to the building before she came racing after him, nearly tackling him in a hug.

"I can't believe you'd leave without saying goodbye," she whispered.

Rex faltered, his resolve in leaving less sure as he held her tight, his friend, the only one who still believed in him after what he'd nearly tried to do. "I'm sorry. I thought it was easier."

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his heart ached, a mournful feeling, like they were parting for the last time.

Ahsoka seemed to think otherwise, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll see each other again," she said.

He got on the next transport ship and headed back to Coruscant. When he arrived, he was surrounded by checkpoints run by personnel, who quickly identified him as a clone.

"Your wrist ID?" the man in the booth requested. He wasn't a clone; he wore the uniform of the military, of the members who weren't soldiers, with sleek hair and a very put together presentation. Rex held out his wrist for the man to scan, and all his information came up with a ping. "CT-7567?"

Rex nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"The head of the Court Martial will want to know why you arrived separately from the rest of your division in civilian clothing," the man noted, engaged in something on the desk before him.

"We crash landed during The Order. A Jedi took us down with them. I was the only one that survived," Rex explained, a wave of grief washing over him as he remembered all his brothers, buried in front of the shipwreck— the bodies they could find at least. What he said was not entirely a lie, but also not the truth. At least the man bought it.

When he reported to the Court Martial, he explained the same details, trying to include extra information where he could to make his story sound more believable. "I buried my men on that planet. Couldn't tell you which one—it seemed like an desert planet. You'll find their graves in front of the shipwreck if you manage to locate it."

"And the Jedi?"

"Ahsoka Tano. Gone," he replied, his anxiety spiking ever so slightly at the thought of his lie not being believed. "Went down with the ship."

"Alright, dismissed. Thank you for your report, CT-7567." The man in the Court Martial office sighed, and Rex turned to go, but he was stopped by the next thing he said. "The Emperor is decommissioning the clones. I thought you ought to know."

"What'll happen to us?"

"Nothing, I imagine. Just lose a job. I was told he believes you all are a terrible reminder of a destructive time in history, one that needed to be quickly forgotten," the man explained.

Well, at least he wouldn't be hunting down Jedi. At least no one would question why a clone didn't have his inhibitor chip. The less interaction he had with the military, the better.

From there he found Wolffe and Gregor, the only men he could find that he trusted, and they drank at the clone bar until they couldn't see straight.

"Cody's dead," Wolffe said, when they finally threw up enough to be coherent again.

"How?"

"Shot himself," Gregor explained. "Not all of us liked what we did, him especially. At least I was bedridden when The Order was executed."

"Yeah, you're lucky," Wolffe moaned, holding onto the toilet bowl for dear life.

Rex decided then and there that he had to get their inhibitor chips out, too. Even if it meant that they had to resort to a seedy, underworld medical operation to do it.

"They don't have rusty knives, do they?" Wolffe asked.

"When was the last time a surgeon used a knife? We're not exactly primitive."

"Yeah, but it's the underworld. Who knows."

"It's a  _ droid _ . You'll be fine." Rex sighed, pushing his two comrades into the building. "Look, those things were the reason you did what you did. No one should be able to control us like that again."

It was a relief, almost, to have himself, his closest brothers, free from the burden that was the inhibitor chip. Rex didn't think he could do this to any other clone without raising suspicions, especially not until all the clones were officially decommissioned, but maybe then it'd be a good time to start.

Rex was safe. Ahsoka was safe. Anakin was safe. Gregor and Wolffe were safe. It was a mantra he repeated in his head, again and again, a reminder that things were not totally helpless, not lost to the new world they were being forced into. Some old things remained, like friends, family. And that was all Rex could count on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this get retconned in like two months when Bad Batch comes out? maybe but I'm ok with that
> 
> Thanks for reading! I promise it'll get happy just maybe not until the very end ahhhh


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka deals with living under an Empire.

Ahsoka couldn't say how long she'd spent away from Coruscant, away from the only home she'd ever known. Throwing herself into Rebellion missions could be defined as not coping well by some (read: Anakin), but he didn't exactly have room to judge, whining and complaining about how she got to have all the fun, and he didn't, and why didn't he get sent on any missions—

"Do you know how to fight without your lightsaber?" Padmé had asked. Anakin, a man who was a father—who had two children—slunk in his chair petulantly, like he was a toddler not getting what he wanted.

It would almost be funny, if it weren't for the fact that the reason no one wanted to send him on any mission was precisely because of Anakin's previous track record, because he was the most wanted man in the galaxy, because the Dark Side was just too tempting of a call for Anakin.

He'd admitted as much privately to her—"I don't trust myself to use the Force anymore," he said. "Not after the end of the Clone Wars."

She sat on it for a moment, letting comforting, appropriate words come to her in response. But none came, so she compromised on, "You meditate."

"I meditate to control myself, not the Force."

It was weird to see her old Master, the Hero with No Fear, the man who ran into battle without second thought, the man who used the Force like a toy, who decimated droids with it, who bent it to his will just… didn't use it anymore.

In fact, she didn't think she'd even seen him use it for lazy reasons, to pick things up— the only notable exception being the time the Imperial Inquisitors nearly found them, and Anakin had to jump his way into a ship that had already taken off, an impossible feat without the assistance of guiding the Force. Sometimes they meditated together, and Ahsoka learned to appreciate the simple peace of sitting still, breathing deeply in and out, letting her thoughts wander, her sense of self releasing from her body.

On one trip to Alderaan, she and Anakin met Leia Organa for the first time, and it was apparently the first time Anakin had seen her since she learned to speak, since she was born, right in time for her fourth birthday, and he was bouncing in his seat.

"Anakin."

"What?" He looked at her indignantly.

"Relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed."

"You're a terrible liar, Anakin."

He shrugged, scooting closer to her position on the cargo ship. "Alright, so I'm worried my four year old daughter hates me. I think it's perfectly rational."

"You met Luke yet?" Anakin nodded. "Did he hate you?"

"Well, no—"

"There you go."

Groaning, he got up and stretched, his joints cracking. She snorted. "Old man." He couldn't have even been thirty, but the sentiment that someone barely ten years her senior was old made her laugh.

He waved his hand dismissively, walking toward the front of the ship, where Padmé was. It had been all their first times off the planet they'd decided to call home since the rise of the Empire. Ahsoka sighed, turning her attention inward, and on Anakin, on Padmé, on Obi Wan and Yoda, alone on some unknown planets, on Rex, traversing the galaxy, hopefully with his brothers.

The worst part about these times was the lack of reassurance— no more quick holo communications, no more mutual understanding of future locations. She didn't know where most of them were, let alone if they were alive, and it was frustrating beyond belief. Force willing, she'd see them all again, but she was  _ lucky _ to have met Anakin on Lothal.

_ There are no accidents through the Force _ , she thought. They were meant to remain together; their meeting up on the same planet, deciding the same career, choosing the same place of work, was no mere coincidence. It was the Force, guiding them together.

And it kept her going, knowing the Force was ultimately on her side, knowing that eventually she'd be reunited with all loved ones, the ones that had survived at the very least.

The report from the Empire came out a year after the start of Jedi Purges, of who, exactly, had perished, a list of accomplishments in their eyes. Master Plo Koon was on that list, along with Mace Windu, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Aayla Secura, Kit Fisto… It went on and on and on— younglings and padawans and knights and masters. Everyone she knew and fought with and loved. But she was also on that list, so perhaps some of them survived after all.

She didn't want to fixate on it too heavily. Too much hope, and it'd be so easy to squash it, to send her into despair.

When they finally arrived on Alderaan, Bail invited them in, and though the cover was seeing Anakin's daughter, Ahsoka quickly learned that the squealing four year old (who adored Anakin, despite not knowing he was her father) wasn't the only reason— they had a Rebellion to fight, to plan.

And so her start as the Fulcrum began, gathering intel across the galaxy, learning what she could, staying in the shadows. It definitely helped that the Empire thought she was dead.

Her first mission was on Corellia, a dirty, messy planet, where she learned about the existence of Imperial Inquisitors, fallen Jedi who'd been convinced, tortured, broken into joining the hunt of the Jedi. She met the Second Sister, an angry girl with all the rage of someone who'd been abandoned, left for dead. Something Ahsoka imagined Maul could relate to.

Ahsoka hadn't used her lightsaber in years, and pulling it out felt wrong, even in the face of violence, like she was doing something forbidden by defending herself against the swinging, rotating blades of an Imperial Inquisitor.

Second Sister's style was clumsy, unrefined, fueled by anger instead of calculating defense and attack, like that of a padawan, which, Ahsoka supposed, the girl probably was. It didn't take long before Ahsoka had the girl on her back, her lightsaber too far away to be useful in combat, her hands up in defense. Pointing the lightsaber in her face, Ahsoka frowned.

The reminder that this girl could've been her was the only thing that kept her from doing any real damage—that, and the call to the light, something she'd been working on, something she always fell back on. So instead, Ahsoka extinguished her lightsaber and hopped on the ride waiting for her.

The people manning the ship were a ghost crew, all of whom refused to look at her so as to avoid revealing anything during the off chance of Imperial questioning. She couldn't even be certain of the number of those on board besides definitively a pilot, but even that was questionable, since ships could be flown by droids.

Throwing herself into missions was an easy replacement for the life she'd always known, the life she'd been robbed of by the Jedi, by the Sith, by the Empire. Though it wasn't the easiest life, it was the only one she knew, and familiarity during these times were more comforting than something safe but unfamiliar.

Anakin didn't like it. Correction—Anakin didn't like that she was doing exciting adventures without him. Though he'd never say it, she could tell he was itching for the next fight, for a mission of his own, instead of standing around planning for months and years on end.

All Ahsoka had to say was, "You might have to actually use the Force, Anakin, not just place your trust in it," and that usually got him to shut up real quick, denying ever wanting to go with her in the first place.

For all the arrogance and hotheadedness of his youth, Anakin really mellowed out to be a mild-tempered thirty year old, for the most part, definitely at least on the surface. It was weird when his quick quips and jealousy turned into sage wisdom and reminders of patience and caution, all things he failed to do as a master leading by example.

He'd only had one close call in all those years, one instance of nearly giving in to the Dark Side that always called to him—when Bail had given Leia permission to start distributing relief aid to the Rebel cells throughout the galaxy, when she was fourteen. Anakin just yelled and yelled and yelled, and Padmé had to step between them to get him to stop Force choking the old man, and Leia cried, something Ahsoka didn't think she'd ever seen the girl do since she was little.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just can't believe you'd put her in danger like that!" he hissed, after releasing Bail from his grip, shaking the metal hand he'd used loose, biting his lip so hard Ahsoka worried he'd bleed.

"Why do you care?" Leia yelled, tears streaming down her face. "It's not like you're my dad!"

Anakin's head snapped in her direction, his face falling, all anger dissipating from inside him, slowly but surely being replaced by a great cloud of grief and sorrow. "I—"

"Leia, I think it's time we told you the truth," Bail said, panting, rubbing his neck like a phantom pain, phantom pressure would return if he didn't. "You know how we told you that you were adopted?"

Leia's eyes widened. "No," she whispered, rubbing a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. "No, I don't believe you."

"Leia," Anakin whispered, almost reverently, falling to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Bail Organa is my father— _ you _ —you're just the man who made me," she said defiantly, flinching away from Anakin's touch before storming out the room, with a concerned Padmé trailing behind her.

Anakin wept in Ahsoka's arms for what felt like forever. "I'm a terrible father," he cried.

Ahsoka thought that day was done once Anakin had left to go to bed, but he returned shortly after with a blanket and a pillow. Apparently Padmé wouldn't let him in.

"Snips, I think I'm in deep shit this time." He laughed, in spite of the situation, in spite of the feelings of regret radiating off him through the Force.

"You haven't called me Snips in ten years."

"Eh, yeah, maybe the title should go to Leia instead."

"Maybe. Someone's gotta carry the mantle. Might as well be a Skywalker."

Shortly after, Anakin decided to return to Lothal, and Padmé to Naboo, of all places. Ahsoka didn't see him for years—after so many spent with her, there was a strange absence in her life, and she was unsure how to fill that void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look anakin skywalker is a moron and even if he spends 14 years trying to not fall to the dark side he's still gonna fuck up. because he's a moron who thinks with his heart instead of his head.
> 
> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Anakin might not be falling to the dark side in this but you can't just almost become evil and not suffer a little bit you know?
> 
> Also! This is my first fic in YEARS and I'm so glad Star Wars was the thing that got me back into writing again
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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